Remembrance
by Moonlight by Beethoven
Summary: Despite all the atrocities he committed, Germany still remembers. But why, why remember such painful times? Written for the kink meme.


This was done for the kink meme, which was something along the lines of "Why does Germany want to remember so much the Holocaust when other countries try their hardest to erase the atrocities of their own history?" Since I never actually replied to the prompt, OP! Anon will probably never read this. Whoops! Either way, I thank that amazing person for inspiring me to write my first ever Hetalia fanfic.

Comments are very appreciated.

_Hetalia belongs to the amazing Hidekaz Himaruya._

* * *

><p>Hitler's words flow out of his mouth like soothing caresses. The crowd is silent, greedily eating what he offers them: hope, a future, love. They cheer, the cry, they dream with this short, strange fellow with the funny mustache. Suddenly, the world doesn't look ugly and somber anymore.<p>

Germany, discreetly standing among his citizens, is transfixed. This man has made him forget the pain on his shoulders, swept him away into a world where he, Germany, is as powerful as God and just as beautiful. He is great, stands among the best, his name in the mouths of angels.

This man will lead them all to glory. He claps enthusiastically with the crowd, as tears of joy and pride form in the corners of his eyes.

..

When one of the ghettos is being dissolved, Ludwig sees a little girl. She can't be older than five years old; there are dark streaks running down her chubby cheeks, and she searches frantically for her mother among the chaos. She is lost, and tries not to cry. Her pink coat stands out among the gray and he can't tear his eyes from her. Eventually, leaving his post by the officers, he walks up to her and kneels to look at her in the eye.

"Little girl, where is your mother? Your father?" She steps back, trembles with fear, fidgets with the hem of her coat.

"Sir, please, please don't hurt me!" she says, panicked "I'll be good. Promise"

Ludwig looks around. The chaos gets uncontrollable as the Jews are forced to board the trains that will send them to the concentration camps.

"I won't hurt you. Tell me, where are your parents? You need to get out of here"

"I... don't know" She finally breaks down. "These big men took Momma. She said she'd come back to get me. I..."

He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't have the heart to lie nor the guts to tell the truth. He stays silent.

Somewhere behind him the train whistles, and the engine roars like a beast.

"Mister... are you going to hurt me?"

Silence. Then. "No, I won't hurt you"

The little girl sniffles, wipes her snot with the sleeve of her coat. She tries to look brave.

"You're a nice man, sir" A smile, and it breaks Ludwig's heart. "The other police officers don't talk to me. I don't think they like us."

"... Thank you" _Please, please survive. Please keep on smiling..._

They run out of words. She announces she will find her Momma before the trains leave, turns around in a blur of pink and walks away, her steps slow yet sure.

The gunshot that brings the little girl with the pink coat down resonates in his ears and in his heart.

..

The war changes sweet little Italy and turns his sunshine into a dull imitation. His smile is not bright anymore, but cold and empty, and his eyes are two black holes. He is not the same Italy Germany found once hiding inside a box of tomatoes; now his back is hunched with the weight of the dead and his skin has taken that yellow tint of the poor and hungry.

The war has effectively crushed Feliciano's soul, and Germany knows it's his fault.

Still, Italy's betrayal leaves him in ruins.

"My people, they can't take this anymore, Germany!" a defeated Italy says, struggling to remain standing, struggling to look at Ludwig in the eyes. "_I_ can't take it anymore. This war, it's tearing us apart..."

Ludwig's heart drums against his chest almost painfully. He was expecting everything but this. Why Feliciano? Why now? After everything he has done for him...?

"Germany, please..." Italy pleads with his eyes. Germany averts his gaze, looks at the dry, broken land surrounding them. It's gray, and dead, and not at all like the fertile Italian soil he once had loved.

He meets Italy's eyes that beg him to understand. But he doesn't want to understand!

"I saved you so, so many times, Feliciano..." his voice is barely a whisper.

Italy's pained expression cut Ludwig deeper than anything.

"But this is wrong, Germany! All this death, and all the hatred... we're tired, and hungry. We want to go back to our old lives..." Italy staggers closer, his legs wobbling with the effort. "We want the war to be over..."

"But it's not over!" Germany's shout surprises him. "We are the ones destined for greatness, Feliciano! Remember? The world revolves around us! You promised..."

He promised…

The allied planes can be seen now. Feliciano looks uncomfortable.

"They're coming, Ludwig. They're coming for me"

_You can't leave me, Feliciano._

"Italy..." Germany doesn't know if it's a plea or an order.

"They're coming to save me. Then I'll be part of the Allies"

_Please, don't leave me alone in this war... It's so somber when you're not around..._

"Goodbye, Germany"

"No, I won't let you go" Germany says.

Italy steps back, whimpers in fear, eyes wide. "Ludwig..."

"I won't let you go, Italy..."

_You're mine, Italy. You're mine. Mine... Mine..._

Italy's screams pierce the air, drowning the sound of the allied airplanes landing on the docks.

..

He is tired. He just wants to lay and go to sleep.

Japan, across the table, looks just as tired as he feels; a tiny white flower trying it's best to weather the harsh winter storm.

Neither one of them speaks for a long time, they don't need to. They both know it's a lost battle, this war. Their bones ache and their minds scream with the pain of a thousand deaths. They are ready to crumble, anytime now, and scatter in the wind like the broken nations they are.

"I can't give up just now, Germany-san" Japan suddenly says, as if reading Germany's mind. "I think we can still win. My pilots are getting better, and.." He trails off. The bags under Japan's eyes are so dark, like bruises, Germany thinks.

"I understand, Japan". He really does. But sometimes, he wishes he didn't.

..

When the allies finally corner him, Germany falls to his knees.

Finally, it's over. He can go to sleep now...

"I surrender" he says, his voice weak, broken. He laughs, bitter and low, and this crazy laugh then turns into sobs. He hides his face behind his hands and cries, cries until his tears run dry.

_Finally, it's over, this atrocious nightmare. Thank God..._

_..  
><em>

They keep him isolated in an old, smelly cell until the trial. His body aches with every breath, every word. His dreams are plagued with death and screams, and he can't sleep despite his fatigue. Next to him, Prussia, just as battered, sits in stony silence, staring off into space, eyes hollow.

Russia comes to take Gilbert first. He doesn't protest. He doesn't even say a word. He just looks into Russia's icy eyes as he easily lifts him by the arm and drags him away.

He looks like a rag doll, Germany thinks. A starved, lonely rag doll with eyes as red as the blood that flowed so freely for so many years.

"Take care, brother", Ludwig whispers to himself, for once feeling something other than fatigue: Despair.

He's truly lonely. The weight on this knowledge crushes what little of his soul is left.

He doesn't move one inch until America comes to get him.

"So, um... I guess you'll have to tolerate us for a while, huh". A lame, awkward attempt at a decent conversation. Germany just stares at him, too tired to feel angry.

Alfred shifts his weight from one leg to the other, as if waiting for something.

"They were all executed, you know. All the members of that party". America looks at Germany with pity. "You can rest now. It's all over"

The members of the Nazi party. The true monsters in this place; the ones who needlessly caused the war. The ones who killed so many innocent civilians...

The people... Ludwig's people.

With energy he doesn't know he has, Ludwig stands up, takes hold of America's wrist through the bars with an iron grip. His legs can't support his weight so he wobbles precariously. Alfred just stares at him, surprised, but places his free hand on Germany's forearm so he doesn't fall over.

"America, the Jews. My people" His voice breaks, the words stuck on his throat. His whole body starts to shake.

This urgency, it's too much to take for his weak body.

"Please, America... Alfred, keep them safe" he pleads with tears in his eyes.

After a drawn out silence where the two nations stare at each other, America grins. It's his hero grin, and Germany knows it'll be okay.

"Yeah. I'll keep them safe, Ludwig" he says, and Germany swears there is a glow coming off Alfred's body, like a halo. "I'll keep them safe so that one day they can return to you"

Germany smiles. Yes, it's all over now. He lets the newly awakened emotions (pain, disgust, _relief_) flow through his body once again.

..

Ludwig stares out the window. It's dark out, after midnight, and there are no stars on the sky. The slight chill, full of autumn and change, seeps through the chipped walls of the small, old hotel room, leaving goose bumps on his skin.

Sometimes, he needs time to think, to remember.

The war is over, but its effects are still felt across the world. America, and Russia are fighting a war of their own—a battle of wits that will yield no victor. England is positively sick and struggles to make ends meet; meanwhile, China and Japan have somehow risen out of their own ashes. Slowly, all the countries are moving on, gearing up toward the future.

However, the shadow of Germany's past is still there, always will; a ghost haunting his every dream and his every waking moment.

For a little while, Ludwig allows himself to feel the pain. It helps him to remember, the sheer cruelty of the human mind. Being stuck in the past, like this, keeps him from forgetting the kind of future he is striving for.

"Germany, come back! I'm cold"

Ludwig opens his eyes, looks at the window. Reflected on the smooth surface is Feliciano, a little caterpillar of white sheets and old blankets. His eyes, wide and full of life again, gently question Ludwig.

Germany allows himself to admire Italy.

He is still rather skinny, despite the economic development he has seen in the last few years. His eyes are bright and hopeful again, but they have lost a certain childish innocence and now look at the world with silent understanding. His face is a bit more angular, his body more developed. He is both a child and an adult; a sensual, perplexing paradox that Ludwig never tires of analyzing.

And the scar on Feliciano's chest, a blemish on an otherwise perfect being—a blemish he himself put there—, still haunts Germany's mind.

"Ludwig. Aren't you cold? Come back! It's way too early to be up"

Germany smiles knowingly and turns around. He knows that Italy knows what he's thinking, but they both let it slide. Instead, he changes the subject.

"There's unrest. Things are about to change"

"Things have been changing for a while now" Feliciano says, resting his head on his knee. "In a good way, too. Isn't it wonderful, Germany? All the countries are on the same page now!"

Italy's eyes sparkle, like whenever he speaks of this new alliance he has been forming with the other countries. An alliance to keep the peace. It sounds like something Italy—_his_ Italy—would do.

It's a little bit naïve, but it's beautiful all the same and it brings him hope—the hope that had eluded him for so long.

"Now come, Germany. I'm cold". Feliciano pouts and Ludwig's blood boils at the sight.

Germany sighs, makes his way to the bed. Italy pushes the blankets aside and receives him with open arms and playful, lingering kisses. Ludwig devours them greedily, asks for more, stores all this joy and all this happiness for later.

..

Germany clutches Italy's hand like a lifeline. From where they stand they can see the wall being slowly chipped away by young Germans— from the East, the West? Does it matter?—with hammers and pickaxes. People enter to his side of the country through the unofficial border crossings, reunite with their families, hug strangers and cry together in joy. It's beautiful, and it's a new beginning.

Ludwig thinks, finally, that everything will be alright.

"There, Germany! It's Prussia!" Italy shouts, pointing in glee.

Gilbert stands proud and tall on the wall, helping up a group of young men up. The bags under his eyes look like bruises, but he smiles widely and his eyes sparkle like rubies. He looks like a hero, weary but victorious, returning home from his epic journey. He shouts something like a war cry, and jumps to the other side. Italy jumps up and down, calls him.

When their eyes meet, something passes between them. Ludwig lets out his breath in a long exhale, relieved; Prussia waves, grins, runs up to him. They are together now, finally, after all these years of fighting for a reunification.

Ludwig extends a hand politely, embarrassed, but Gilbert wraps him in a hug. It's been so long without his older brother, and Germany clings to him as Prussia says something in between sobs and laughs. Italy jumps up and down around them, celebrating.

"You've grown, West" he says proudly, holding his brother by the shoulders. "Now, no one will be able to hurt you anymore"

Ludwig can't help the color that spreads across his face. "Thanks, brother".

He wills the tears to stay back. It's hard, though, with the joyous celebration all around them.

"Prussia! You look amazing" Italy says, holding onto Gilbert's arm as he scans him over. "Romano said that Russia was treating you very badly, but you look just fine! Was it awful? Was Russia really treating you bad? Did you see Hungary too?"

Prussia laughs—his loud, raucous laugh that Germany knows so well. "Yeah, I've been better. Do not talk about Russia in my presence, by the way. I really hate that bastard right now" His eyes briefly glint with pure hatred.

Italy looks at Gilbert questioningly, but lets it go. "C'mon! I made pasta to celebrate! Romano and Spain want to see you, too, even if Romano doesn't want to admit it. Big Brother France would also be happy, he's been asking a lot for you lately…"

Ludwig holds Italy's hand as the three of them make their way through the crowd; silently watches Prussia try to keep up with Feliciano's conversation. He doesn't reach to wipe away at the tears running down his cheeks, because they're tears of joy, and those are worth remembering.

..

During a break on the meeting, Germany and America step outside to breathe fresh air.

Things are going surprisingly smoothly for Ludwig. German economy is flourishing beautifully, setting an example for the rest of the European nations. He, along with France, has become the pillar behind the unification of all the European nations, the stone they all lean against. He enjoys good relationships with most nations. His engineering is superb and internationally known. Tourism is slowly but surely increasing.

He smiles, tight-lipped and proud. Things are finally going well for him

"Um Germany?" America asks after a break in the conversation, peering at him above his glasses. "Why do you feel the need to commemorate the war? Don't you think it's been a long time already?

A sudden turn in the conversation. Germany's smile turns nostalgic. Sometimes he forgets how young Alfred truly is.

"Because if I don't remember, no one else will. And I owe it to my people to remember their suffering, their pain, to carry it all on my shoulders until my back breaks. Besides, you also feel the need to use the war as a subject for a lot of your movies. Does that answer your question, America?"

Alfred blushes furiously. He clears his throat, risks a peek at Ludwig's face.

"Dude, if it makes you feel better… they have all forgiven you. I think you should forgive yourself too, you know. Go easy on yourself"

Ludwig smiles, runs a hand through his hair. "I'm trying, America. I really am"

"There is always hope, then" America grins.

Hope. Yes; Germany still holds on to it, even to this day.

* * *

><p><em>The End<em>

* * *

><p>So here it is. Comments are appreciated. Cookies will be given to those who catch all the historical references (therefore, my research fail xD) :3<p> 


End file.
